Knowing
by iq-of-a-banana
Summary: Tim's known for overthinking everything, even the simple things. Which can sometimes lead him to think a little too deep, especially when what he wants is right there. Brotherly bonding. Fluff.


Tim stared at his brother.

Not in a creepy fashion, but just out of curiosity. It wasn't often that Dick fell asleep in a place other than his room, especially in places such as the living room.

Anyone who lived at Wayne Manor knew that about three fourths of the rooms were never used, especially that particular living room (Yes, there are more than one). Why Dick would have even been in there was a mystery all its own. There wasn't anything special about that room, and it certainly wasn't the most comfortable couch in the Manor.

So why this room? Well, there were a couple of reasons that Dick might have chosen this room. Maybe there was a sentimental reason involved? Or maybe he just wanted some privacy. But why this room? If he'd wanted privacy he could have just went to his room. Or the Batcave. Or on the rooftops of Gotham. Or, really, anywhere. It wasn't like Alfred or himself would go hunting him down. Or maybe it was something else entirely. It could be that there was another secret in this room and Dick was-

Dick shifted on the couch, stopping Tim's train of thought.

Tim shook his head gently. He was over analyzing things again. Dick probably just came here on a whim. It wasn't like Dick thought everything through like Tim did. He just _did_ things. No thought, no analysis, no nothing. Just impulses.

That was something Tim admired about his older brother.

Dick could just go through his day and not think twice about anything he chose to do. He could make choices without even thinking about consequences or results. And most of the time, if not all of the time, they were the right decisions. And even if they weren't Dick would find some way to fix it.

Not Tim.

Tim had to think. About _everything_. What route would he take to get to school? What would he talk to his friends about? What would he say to his dad at dinner? Where would he patrol, and for how long? Who would he go with? Would he stop at the cave after, or would he go before? When would he do his homework? What would he eat for lunch?

Tim didn't have a choice. If he didn't think things through he broke down into a nervous wreck. He knew. He tried once. It wasn't pretty.

No, it was better for him to think. After all, if he didn't consider all the choices who would?

He'd make mistakes. Answer incorrectly. Mess up.

Kill someone.

Tim blinks and Dick shifts again.

That was his greatest fear, wasn't it? To make an error that ultimately ends with the death of someone he cares about. Someone he loves. Someone he couldn't live without.

To see their blood spill all over the floor. See their eyes dull and their chests stop rising and falling. To see them stop moving. To reach down and look for a pulse that wouldn't be there. To go home with one friend less.

Yes. That was his greatest fear.

That's why he thought so hard. Why he trained so hard.

He had to. He couldn't risk screwing up. Couldn't afford to make a mistake, no matter how small. There was no way he would allow himself to. One small error is all that it would take to lose a life. That's why he never relaxed. Never just hung out. Never took a break. Never wasted time.

He couldn't waste time.

So why was he doing it now?

Dick shifted, facing Tim.

Tim wondered if Dick always looked like this or if it was just the lighting.

Did he always look so young? Tim took a small step forward, now intrigued by his discovery.

Dick looked different when he was asleep. His featured didn't seem as sharp or as hard. His face looked softer now, more relaxed. Less guarded.

Tim decided that _that_ was what looked so different.

Dick, nowadays, always had his guard up. He was always blocked off, unreadable. Both at the cave and at home. The mask at the cave helped a lot and anyone who only saw Nightwing probably didn't notice the difference. But at home it was easy to see the Dick was hiding something.

Tim didn't pry, though. He knew that he had to trust his brother, no matter what. No matter what secrets Nightwing was holding back. No matter how many lies were told. No matter how many tears fell for teammates that weren't really dead and old leaders who weren't really traitors.

Family had to stick together, no matter what.

"Are you going to join me, Timmy?"

Tim just blinked and wondered how long Dick had been awake for.

"What do you mean?"

Dick, without opening his eyes, smirked and moved so that there was room for Tim.

"Tim, you've been standing there forever. You obviously want to join me."

All of a sudden Tim knew why he hadn't moved. He did want to join Dick. He's missed those times when Dick would just drape himself over his younger brother and just hang there. He's missed those moments when there were no words needed. When touches said everything better than words ever could. When his brother wasn't so guarded.

Hell, Tim's even missed being called 'Timmy'.

Tim walked over, footsteps barely audible, almost as if he's scared he'll scare Dick into retreating back into his shell of lies and deception.

Dick grabs him and pulls him onto the couch, snuggling against him. Tim lets himself be held like a teddy bear and, oddly enough, enjoys it.

But something was bothering him.

"How did you know?"

Tim feels Dick smirk against his neck and it slightly tickled when Dick chuckles lightly.

"I knew, because, for all your analysis and planning and over thinking," Dick murmurs sleepily, "You're still never going to know yourself better than I do."

NIGHTWINGROBINNIGHTWINGROBIN 

There, some nice cute fluff. Hope you enjoyed this little thing. PS, I wrote this and never re-read it, so if there are any mistakes please tell me. Thanks!


End file.
